VIII
When he had recovered from the effects of the motor lorry’s skepticism, and Myra’s visit, he got a job as chauffeur. Therefore he met his wife, walking along the road. So he ran right off a precipice. It was the only thing to do to keep up the interest.
But he could not escape her. She came down the precipice after him.
“What are you doing in that absurd livery?”
“Chauffeuring.”
He told her the simple truth. The shock was too great. She left him.
“Go to blazes!” he called after her.
“Blaise’s? It’s not,” she answered. “It’s my own home. I only rented it to him.”